


Priority

by Cantrella



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Failed attempts at writing bits of Sans and Papyrus, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantrella/pseuds/Cantrella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were going to have to spend Christmas Eve alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Priority

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas, even if this is a tad bit late for eve  
> uhhh just a little thing i threw together since i feel real bad for my hiatus
> 
> and i haven't written for the mettabae in a while, so here's my new contribution i guess  
> so sorry for not updating hahahaha ahahah ahahaah 
> 
> and uh please ignore my attempt at sans + papyrus i dont even know  
> also tbh i think mettaton is ooc in this  
> everyone is ooc i might as well make it an original piece of work maybe

A sigh was let out. 

You cut the call, unable to stand hearing another monotonous beep coming from the other side of the line. Your heart felt heavy and your spirit crushed, as you put your phone back in its place on the coffee table.  
This was the sixth call now, and still no one answered. 

Of course, you shouldn’t have expected anyone to. He had told you, apologizing profusely while he did, he would be busy today due to his job, but also promised to make it up to you some other time – yet you, foolish, selfish little you, still had a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d have been able to make it anyway. 

A glance at the clock hanging on the wall of the dimly lit room told you there was only a few hours left until the day was over. 

You let out a laugh, knowing that no one would be here to catch the disappointed ring it had to it, nor would anyone be here to comfort you for it. You felt defeated, but knew it wasn’t his fault – you couldn’t have him all to yourself with the line of work he was in; he belonged to everyone as much as he belonged to you, and it was only because he enjoyed your presence a bit more than he enjoyed everyone else’s that you even had the opportunity to mope about as you did currently. 

Maybe you were just being ungrateful. Maybe you should let go for just a little while. 

Sparing the decorated tree in the corner a quick glance, and doing your best to ignore the pang of sadness that hit you as you took in its bright lights and shiny decorations, you trudged into the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge.  
You’d never tried to get drunk off of eggnog before. 

 

“An’ so I told ‘im…’Well aren’ ya jus’ a Rudeolph,’ an’ he looked at me like he’d jus’ chugged an entire glass of ‘xpired milk.” You slurred over the phone, giggling at your own words as though they were the highest tier of comedic gold. 

“Well, it _was_ a bit bone-dry.”

“Pshhh,” your free hand swatted at the air, as though physically dismissing the voice’s words, “’Sif you could do better!”

“I could, but I like to stick to the marrow world of skelepuns. Feels more at home - you know how it is, pal.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Yer jus’ sayin’ that cuz you know you can’t beat mine.”

“Heh.” 

Reaching forward, you grabbed another glass filled to the brim with that wonderful, wonderful liquid, and in one shot, drained the entire thing. You let out a content hum, already feeling the effect of more alcohol in your system; the more you had in you, the better. 

“Hey listen, if – BROTHER, DO YOU NOT KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS? WE MUST GET TO BED IMMEDIATELY, OR ELSE SANTA WILL NOT COME AND DELIVER OUR PRESENTS! YOU ARE ALREADY IN A DANGEROUS POSITION FOR BEING SUCH A BAG OF LAZYBONES ALL YEAR ROUND, SO AT LEAST TRY TO GET ON HIS GOOD SIDE BY GOING TO SLEEP EARLY!” 

Stomping could be heard in the background of the call, before quickly fading away into silence once more. You let out another fit of giggles, as the voice on the other side joined in with its own low chuckles. 

“Guess you better goan be a good boy like Paps told you to, eh? Wouldn’ want Santa ta skip out on you guys.” 

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be very cool of him –“ You heard some rustling, and then the voice seemed louder, as though the other caller had moved closer to the microphone, “but listen, if you need anything, or just need someone to listen again, you know who to call.” 

“Yeah. Thanks for bein’ here.” 

 

You woke up to the sound of the door closing.

Blinking away the sleep in your eyes, and wincing at the headache that was already starting to take root, a quick look at the clock told you that it was now a few minutes till midnight. 

Clutching at your head as you slowly sat up from the couch, you didn’t have time to even call out before you were embraced by a larger form, arms quickly wrapping around you and pulling you close into a tender warmth. By reflex, you returned the gesture, head automatically seeking the space near the crook of his neck, and forehead leaning against him as your eyes fluttered closed. 

“I thought you said it was a Midnight Special today.” Your words were soft, reflecting your half-awake state-of-mind, as you gradually pulled away to look into his beautiful, breath-taking eyes. 

“It is, my dear. But I - ” he hesitated, his words a gentle hum that carried countless apologies and regret, “I realized that I lacked my usual perfection on stage, because I lacked perfection in being the perfect partner for you.” 

He unwound himself from you, taking both your hands in his own as he sits down beside you. You opened your mouth to respond, to say that no, you understood and he shouldn’t feel so bad, but he shakes his head, raven locks shining in the warm glow of the fireplace. 

“I knew how much this day meant to you, and yet I chose the responsibility of work over my responsibility of your happiness… and instead I gave the opposite of happiness to you.” A hand, metallic yet warm, gently cupped at your cheek, his pink eyes piercing intensely into your own. 

“I’m so sorry, my dearest. You are who I should have spent this night with, not my show.” His voice was the barest of whispers now, and he finally tore his gaze away from you, as though ashamed of himself.

You couldn’t resist it – you let out a laugh; suddenly, the hours you spent alone, the hours you spent drinking and the hours you spent bitter and sad seemed so small and so insignificant, because he was here now and he left halfway through his show just to be here with you – he bore the disappointment of millions of fans just to come home and cheer you up, and you never felt more important in your life. 

When he turned to face you, his expression one of horror, he no doubt believed he had upset you beyond the point of rationality, and that your laughs were merely a way for you to cope – you lifted a hand to touch at his face gingerly, cupping it the same way he did yours, and you leaned forward to brush against his forehead with your own. 

“What do you mean ‘should have spent’? Last I checked, it was still the 24th. Merry Christmas, Mettaton.”

He laughed, the sound more angelic and heavenly than any Christmas choir, and moved to close the space between you two, lips melding with your own in a perfect harmony. 

“Merry Christmas, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> i cant even look at myself rn


End file.
